Roll It Up Again

Fuckin buddha comin at'cha live

Direct with the biggest, fattest joint

Comin in with indo flavours

Fuckin' buddha comin at'cha like this

'95

It's Friday mornin', where the weed at?

Let me dip into my pocket for my fat weed sack

Cos I wanna get high like a plane

In the sky with the endo cloud in my brain

Where the fuck are my zig-zags and my lighters?

So I can roll it and set it on fire

Damn, I wish I had scissors cus the shit is so sticky

That it's gettin' on my fuckin' fingers

But it's smokeable, double tokeable

I got the one-hitta quitta, Bombay shit that's tokeable

I wanna do a joint venture

Let me make sure there ain't no lump in the goddamn center

The impregnated lookin' joint, fuck it

I can smoke it and I still get faded

Roll it up, light it up, smoke it up

Inhale exhale

(I'm the freaka, the one freaks the funk

(East Coast hittin' that blunt),

West Coast hittin' that honey-dip

Marijuana joint then I want another hit

Roll it up, (light it up), smoke it up

I wanna stimulate my mind (so I toke it up)

Can I get a hit? (Can I get a hooh!?)

Gimme that fat bag of weed and the brew

So I can get faded, elevated

Smoke the joint down to a roach then I ate it

I stand true to the Yesca Mota

(As I keep runnin from the chunta)

Gimme dat weed fool and ya zig-zags

(Puto won't be holdin' out on the big bag)

[Refrain]

(I'm the freaker, the one who freaks the funk)